AllFreeNovel
Share Us
His head, not so much. He was still bristling at her words, no matter how close to the truth they were.
She thought he was a bad dad. Yeah, well, he thought that daily, too. She could join the long line of people wanting to join that club.
“Am I pretty?” Delilah asked.
“Yeah, you are. And you’re smart and you’re funny and I love you very much.” He kissed her brow.
“I love you too.” She snuggled up against him. “But I’m not that smart. I only got four out of ten on my spelling test.”
Chapter
Three
The sun was shining as Cassie drove into work, which was a blessing after the overnight rain. She was still getting used to the short commute she now had. When she’d lived in the city, she’d had to catch two trains to get to work. It was one of the reasons she’d agreed to help her friend Gemma out by moving to Hartson’s Creek and teaching at the Forsythe Dance Studio.
She’d first met Gemma when she was nine and Gemma was eleven. It had been Cassie’s first day at her new school for performing arts and Gemma had been assigned as her buddy. It had been Cassie’s mom’s dream for Cassie to become a dancer, and Cassie had auditioned three times before she’d been given a place at the school.
They’d spent most of their days dancing, singing, and acting, their academic education second to their physical training. Their classes had been mixed – that’s how she and Gemma had become such good friends. They’d sit around after school while they were waiting to be picked up, giggling about the ‘trifecta’ their teachers were always lecturing them about.
“It’s not enough to be great at one thing. You have to be great at three to make it. Music, dancing, and acting. They’re the three legs your careers will rest on.”
When Cassie was seventeen, she’d joined the New York Academy of Ballet, and it had almost broken her heart to leave Gemma behind. By nineteen, Gemma had given up on performing and took a gap year to travel the world.
That’s where she’d met Riley – her now husband. By twenty they were married and she was pregnant. Soon after they’d moved to Hartson’s Creek, Riley’s home town, where he had a job at the local bank.
Cassie and Gemma had kept in touch as much as they could. And then when Cassie’s career was cut short thanks to her accident, Gemma had offered her a job at the Dance School she’d opened, while Cassie decided what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
Because it was clear she couldn’t dance anymore. Not professionally anyway. Teaching was the best she could manage.
Parking her car outside of the studio, Cassie grabbed her bag before climbing out. She had an hour before her first class – a mommy and me one – so she was planning on doing some exercise. Use it or lose it. And she didn’t want to lose it, mostly because dancing filled her soul.
It was the one time she could push everything out of her mind. Forget who she was and any troubles tickling her brain. She’d lose herself in the movement and rhythm of her dance, in the stretching of her feet and the tautness of her muscles.
“Hey!” Gemma greeted her as she walked inside. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”
She didn’t look annoyed, though. Which was good because Cassie had enough annoyance from Delilah’s dad last night. She’d spent the evening trying to work out why she’d reacted so strongly to his anger.
Why she couldn’t stop looking at the way his dusty t-shirt clung to his chest, or the inked designs along his arms.
Ugh. He was so not her type. And yet somehow she couldn’t get him out of her mind.
“What’s wrong?” She stopped at the counter and dropped her bag to the floor.
“These just arrived for you.” Gemma pointed at an enormous bouquet behind her. “I put them in some water. They’re beautiful.”
Cassie stared at them, surprised. “Where did they come from?”
“Only one way to find out.” Gemma grinned, passing her a little white envelope – the kind that always seemed to go with flowers. Cassie opened it and unfolded the nondescript card.
The writing was masculine. As though he’d written it himself rather than calling the order through to a shop.
Sorry for being late. It won’t happen again.
Presley Hartson
Oh. She looked at it for a moment, like she was trying to read between the lines. Had she really been that much of a bitch last night?
Probably. But then she hated seeing the little girl cry. She’d been there too often herself. Forgotten. Alone.
